


Sweet Dee Runs Away

by rowenablade



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: And typical Sunny irreverence toward same, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Mac's Not In This, Pre-Canon, References to possible CSA and sibling abuse, Sorry Mac Fans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 13:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16934100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowenablade/pseuds/rowenablade
Summary: A high-school era fic about Dee running away from home, and nothing going as planned.





	Sweet Dee Runs Away

**Author's Note:**

> Dee's particular blend of insecurity and arrogance has always resonated with me. This story is my attempt at a character study as well as trying to mimic the show's dialogue and tone.

The thing about Dee’s family is, they know exactly how far they can push her. So many times she’s gotten so close to her breaking point, and they always seem to sense it and reel her back in.

She’ll endure weeks of biting criticism from her mother until she wakes up one morning deciding this is it, today she’ll take all the pills in Mom’s medicine cabinet. She’ll die and her mother will have to handle Dad and Dennis all alone. Hell, she’ll probably end up killing herself too.

So Dee gets out of bed and opens her bedroom door and there’s Mom, her clutch in one hand and Dee’s coat in the other. “Get dressed, you’re skipping school!” Her smile is drunk but dazzling. “We’re going shopping!”

They spend the day at the mall and Mom buys Dee a bunch of new outfits and doesn’t even make a nasty comment about her brace once, and Dee decides maybe killing herself can wait awhile.

She’ll be ready to never speak to Dennis again, sick to death of her twin’s insults and his vanity and his “experiments” that all seem to involve injuring her somehow. Then they’ll end up walking home from school, Dee a few paces ahead of Dennis and pointedly ignoring him, and he’ll start trying to make her laugh. He’ll point out flaws in their teachers and classmates that she thought only she had ever noticed, and she can’t help but add her own observations, and soon they’re walking side by side and snickering. And they get home and watch TV in comfortable silence and Dee decided she likes having a twin, even if he’s a bastard most of the time. It’s better than being alone.

But this time she’s had enough. Dennis’ last experiment, an attempt at “homegrown breast implants” cooked up by his idiot new friend Mac, resulted in a gash on her chest and a reaming out from her mother about getting blood on the carpet. Her dad drove her to the hospital, griping about the bill the whole time while she came close to bleeding out, and he wandered off when she was getting her stitches, claiming the scene was giving him ‘Nam flashbacks.

Now, two weeks later, her stitches out and her back brace off for the night, Dee decides she’s done. It’s 11 PM on a Wednesday night and it’s going to be the last night that Deandra Reynolds spends in Philadelphia. She moves around her room in a fury, throwing her best outfits and her makeup and her Walkman into a backpack. She can walk to the train station and from there, she’ll catch a train to New York City. 

It’ll be hard to make it at first, she knows. She’ll have to lie about her age, but Dee knows she’s much more mature than most fifteen-year olds, and it’ll be good practice for her future career as an actress. With her looks and brains, Dee figures she’ll be famous in about five years. She’ll be living the high life in New York City, dating movie stars and wearing diamonds. And Dennis will have gotten fat, and Mom will overdosed and died, and Dad will have keeled over from a heart attack, right in the middle of one of his precious steak dinners. And everyone will realize how much of a wonderful person Deandra Reynolds is, to have grown up in that family and maintained her beauty and grace.

She throws on her backpack. It’s heavy, she probably shouldn’t have packed so many shoes, but she needs a variety of outfits for when she starts going on auditions. She hoists the pack higher and creeps down the stairs with her sneakers in her hand. Mom’s purse is resting on the kitchen counter, and Dee takes all the money out of the wallet, two hundreds, six twenties and two singles. Enough for a train ticket and then some. Enough for her to start her new life.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Dee almost screams at the sound of Dennis’ voice but stops herself at the last second. She whirls around, clutching the fistful of bills and nearly toppling over from the weight of her backpack.

“Jesus, Dennis,” she whispers.

“Are you stealing money out of Mom’s purse?” 

Dee shushes him and Dennis’s eyes narrow.

“Sweet Dee, what _are_ you up to?”

If she weren’t weighted down by her pack, Dee would just run. But Dennis has hit a growth spurt and is finally catching up to her in height, and he could probably stop her at this point. 

“Look, I just need the money, okay?” she hisses.

“What, do you need an abortion or something?”

“No! No, I’m buying a…a fake ID. Ingrid knows a guy and if I go over to her place tonight he’s gonna be there and I can get a fake ID.”

“Aaaaah.” Dennis grins. “That’s actually not a bad idea, we could use access to someone with a fake ID. Of course, it shouldn’t be you, you’re a metal freak who can’t act for shit. So how about instead _I’ll_ go over to Ingrid’s, and you can-”

“Goddammit, Dennis, it was my idea!” Dee snaps, forgetting in the moment that none of this even matters. 

“I’m just saying, you think you’re gonna fool anybody into thinking you’re twenty-one with that baby fat-“

“Oh my god, shut up. Here.” Dee peels off a hundred and holds it out to him. “If I give you this will you just go back to bed? What are you even doing up anyway?”

There’s something sharp and bright in Dennis’s eyes as he pockets the money. “None of your business, Deandra,” he whispers. 

“Fine, creep,” Dee mutters, tucking the rest of the money into her jeans. 

“Loser,” Dennis retorts. “Who’s a fake ID supposed to impress anyway? You don’t have friends.”

“Just go back to bed, Dennis!”

Dennis smirks at her and slouches up the stairs. As he goes Dee feels a knot loosen in her chest. The next time she sees her brother, she’ll be famous and he’ll be the loser. She almost wishes she could tell him, just to see the sad, lonely look on his face when she says goodbye forever.

——

It starts to rain after Dee’s been walking about thirty minutes, a sticky drizzle that soaks her jeans and her hair and her shoes. Soon she’s sniffling and miserable, but there’s no way she’s going back now. She reminds herself that decades from now, when they make a movie about her life, this will be one of the most important scenes. The beautiful, innocent teenage girl taking that first bold step into the real world, the world that will shape her into a towering goddess. It has to be this way. The ending won’t be as satisfying if it isn’t.

Still, it doesn’t make her runny nose and wet socks any more pleasant in the moment. And now she’s left her familiar suburban streets and is entering the dodgy area closer to the train tracks. Most of the shady characters of Philadelphia are still holed up in the city’s bars, but the absence of people just makes Dee more nervous.

She hears the car slowing down behind her with a familiar sense of dread. It’s not the first time she’s dealt with creeps in cars. It happened for the first time when she was nine; some pervert pulled over to ask her for directions and when Dee walked up to the window to talk to him, he’d had his dick out in his hand like it was the most normal thing to do. Dee had screamed and run away and told Dennis all about it, who had howled with laughter while Dee called the police. Later her father had come upstairs to talk to her about it. He’d laid his hand on her shoulder (she was already the same height as him) and looked her in the eyes.

“Watch out for those creeps in cars, Deandra,” she remembered his gravelly voice saying. “The world’s full of sick bastards like that looking for pretty young girls to take advantage of. And when they can’t find any, they might come after you. You gotta be smart, and you gotta be fast. Like your old man.”

With her Dad’s voice rumbling in her mind, Deandra steps well back from the road as the car pulls up beside her. The driver’s side window rolls down and a man leans out. Clean-looking, wearing a suit with the tie loosened. Handsome, for an older guy. Nice teeth. He flashes a big, warm smile at Dee as he leans out the window.

“You need a ride, honey?” His use of the pet name isn’t creepy, the way a pervert would say it. He sounds like someone’s dad. He sounds nicer than _her_ Dad, who only calls her names like _sweetie_ or _honey_ right before he says something he knows will piss her off.

Dee supposes this guy might be all right, just a misguided businessman trying to help, so she smiles when she says, “No thanks, I’m good.”

“Hey.” He puts the car in neutral and leans out farther, his arm hanging out the window so Dee can see the wedding band on his finger. “It’s none of my business, but it’s pouring rain and this isn’t a great part of town. What are you doing out here?”

“I’m just going-“ Dee points, then stops herself. The man’s fingers are drumming on the side of the car, a jittery rhythm that doesn’t fit with his soothing voice. And the way he’s clenching his jaw doesn’t seem right, either. That’s something Dennis does.

He cocks his head, and she scrambles to finish her sentence.

“-for a walk. I didn’t know it was gonna rain. I’ll be home soon anyway, a little rain won’t kill me.”

The man laughs, flashing a little more of those teeth. HIs eyes take in Dee’s backpack, her wet hair and red eyes, and she knows he knows she’s lying.

“Look, if it’s a bad situation you’re trying to get away from, there’s people that can help you. It’s dangerous out here for a girl alone. Why don’t you at least sit down and warm up for a few minutes?”

His tone is still perfectly pleasant. There’s nothing to be afraid of, and Dee _would_ like to get warm, but something makes her take a few steps farther back.

Her twin brother is a screamer, usually. He rages and he curses and he calls her a dumb ugly bitch, but none of that scares her. Sometimes, though, Dennis gets very quiet. That’s when he scares her, because she doesn’t know where he goes when he does that. But he can only come back by hurting something.

Something in this guy’s tone reminds her of that. Like he’s not really there. Like he’s reading the words he’s saying off a paper and what’s really in his brain is just noise and blood.

She shakes her head, praying the guy will give up and leave her alone.

She can’t fight him off, if he decides to make trouble. She can’t even fight off her skinny twin, and has the scars to prove it.

Luckily, she planned for that.

“Can I put my backpack in the backseat?” she asks. “It’s pretty heavy.”

The man smiles even wider. “Sure, sweetie.” There’s a chunk sound as he unlocks the door.

Dee opens the door and shrugs the bag off her shoulders. She opens it, reaches inside and grabs the handle of the other thing she stole from the kitchen, wrapped in one of her sweaters.

She snatches her backpack off the seat and leaps away from the car, brandishing her mom’s largest kitchen knife at the well-dressed man.

“Back off!” Her voice is a wet screech, nothing like the howl of rage she’d been hoping for, but it’s loud and it’s mean and that had better be enough. “Just get away!”

“Holy shit!” The man puts his hands up, his smile vanishing like a lightbulb popping out. “Jesus Christ, kid, I was just offering to help you out!”

“Get away!” 

“A guy tries to do you a favor and you pull a knife on him? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Get away!” Her voice is cracking, and she can see lights coming on in some of the buildings nearby.

“Fine, I’m going.” The guy puts his hands back on the wheel. “See how far you get with that attitude. You’re gonna be missing nice guys like me wherever you end up.”

Dee says nothing, just thrusts the knife toward his window. He scowls at her and peels out, making sure to splash her a little bit as he speeds away from her.

Her hands are shaking as she tucks the knife away. 

_That was so bad-ass._

She’s not even out of Philly yet, and her story has already gotten more exciting. 

_I’m gonna be the biggest star. Things like this don’t happen to ordinary people._

——

When she gets to the train station, she finds out the next train to New York isn’t until five AM. That’s still a few hours away, and while she could wait at the station, a fluorescent-lit room with a vending machine and a chain-smoking clerk, she’s worried she’ll fall asleep and either miss the train or get her bag stolen. 

A few blocks back is a Denny’s that’s open all night, so Dee trudges over there and takes a table in the far corner. The waitress who brings her coffee calls her _“darlin’”_ and tells her she can stay as long as she needs. The kindness touches Dee and she’s happy for the waitress. Soon, she’ll be able to tell everyone that she poured coffee for Deandra Reynolds back when she was a nobody, a runaway bound for the big city. One of those tubby character actresses who win all those awards can play her in the movie about Dee’s life. It’ll be the best thing that’s ever happened to her.

Dee sips her coffee and ponders the merits of Tribeca over Greenwich Village when a commotion by the door distracts her. The waitress is arguing with someone. Dee twists in her seat and sees it’s some kid about her age, his dark hair sticking up like a cartoon character who’s had a bad scare. Shorter than Dee, patchy beginnings of a beard, over-sized green jacket that makes him look even smaller. 

He seems familiar, but Dee doesn’t quite place him until the argument takes a turn for the worse. He gets louder, and the raspy whine in his voice is unmistakable.

“You can’t stay here anymore,” the waitress is saying. “If you don’t leave I’ll have to call the police.”

“Please,” the kid says. “Just let me sit in the corner. You don’t have to bring me any coffee or anything, just ignore me, but I can’t go home, okay? Please? Please. I’ll be super quiet, I promise.”

It’s Charlie Kelly, and the reason Dee remembers his name is he’s one of the biggest losers in their whole school. For some reason Dennis has started letting him hang around him and his friends, maybe because Charlie is one of those sad little kids who will do absolutely anything for attention. The kid who eats out of the trash, who draws pictures of ‘worm-monsters’ and wordlessly hands them to girls he likes, who once got so nervous delivering a book report that he vomited on Miss Blandford’s desk. And that’s just the stuff Dee has witnessed in person. The rumors she’s heard are even weirder.

The waitress is trying to gently shove him out the door, and either she’s not trying very hard or Charlie is stronger than he looks, cause the little guy’s not budging. His eyes are practically popping out of his head as he tries to force his way back inside.

“Look, I can’t go back home, I can’t! There’s something there, something _bad_ , and _please_ don’t make me go back there, I’m seriously begging you here-“

He’s practically crying now, and normally Dee would find this funny in a sad, uncomfortable way. But her sense of her own importance has left her feeling charitable. She can help this kid out, she realizes. Now she’s picturing the article about her in _Rolling Stone_ , one of the really literary ones where they go back to her hometown and analyze all the pieces that went into the life of film and fashion icon Deandra Reynolds.

“She bought me a coffee once,” she imagines Charlie saying to the interviewer. Later he’ll be credited as _a childhood acquaintance_. “She was just that kind of person. Pretty _and_ nice. Smart too. A real triple-threat.”

And everyone in Philly will read the article and feel just awful about how they treated this wonderful person in their midst.

So instead of snickering behind her coffee cup, Dee twists around in her seat and waves.

“Charlie! Oh my god, there you are! I’ve been waiting for, like, twenty minutes! Where’ve you been?”

The kid’s brow wrinkles in confusion, but he stops struggling with the waitress. “Oh hi…Dee?”

Dee flashes a brittle smile and waves him over. _Damn right you know what my name is, loser._

“He’s your friend?” the waitress asks, and Dee flinches in distaste before she can help it.

“No, no,” Dee begins, before she catches herself. “He’s, uh…”

“I’m her boyfriend!” Charlie yelps. Dee shoots him a glare and shakes her head as the waitress looks between them.

“I mean, hopefully,” Charlie continues, ducking under the waitress’ arm and sidling up to Dee’s table. “Cause, uh…this is our first date!” He turns to Dee and clumsily takes her right hand in both of his. “So sorry I’m late, Miss Reynolds. You look…stunning?”

“Just sit down,” Dee whispers. Charlie huddles into the booth across from her, looking pleadingly up at the waitress.

“Hope you’re alright going Dutch, darlin’,” the older woman says with a roll of her eyes. “Kid comes in here all the time and never pays for anything. Last time I caught him eating ketchup out of the bottle.”

Charlie laughs like the waitress has made a joke, but Dee has a feeling it’s a true story. Especially considering the sidelong glance Charlie gives the ketchup bottle as the waitress stands impatiently over them.

“Just another coffee, please,” Dee says quietly.

“And some chocolate chip pancakes!”

The waitress clucks her tongue and walks away as Dee leans across the table to whisper at Charlie. He doesn’t smell great; wet dog and beer and some chemical smell Dee can’t identify, like hairspray.

“What the hell?”

“Come on, I have to watch people eat the food in here all the time and never get to try it.”

“She’s not gonna believe we’re here on a date if you order chocolate chip pancakes!”

“Oh why not, is that too awesome for a date?”

“Jesus Christ.” Dee rubs her temples as the waitress brings a coffee for Charlie. “And I’m guessing you don’t have any money.”

“So what? I know you’re rich.” Charlie shakes about a cup of sugar into his coffee, takes a sip and makes a face. “This is gross.”

“Shut up. And I’m not rich. My parents are rich. And I’m done with them.”

Charlie scrunches his face up curiously, taking in Dee’s backpack dripping on the seat next to her, the absence of her back brace, her presence in a part of town she’s never been before.

“Holy shit, are you running away from home?” He squawks this loud enough for the whole goddamn restaurant to hear and completely ignores Dee shushing him. “That’s awesome, I run away from home all the time! Do you know where you’re going yet? I know a bunch of good hiding places, I could show you after we have our pancakes-“

“Omigod, shut up!” Dee slams her hand on the table, drawing looks from the handful of drunks and truckers at nearby tables. “I’m not going to one of your hiding places, whatever that means. I’m getting on the next train to New York City.”

“Why?” Charlie’s already finished his coffee and is shredding a napkin now.

“So I can start my real life without my asshole parents holding me back.”

“You can’t do that in Philly?”

“Of course I can’t do it here! My parents won’t let me just move out.”

“Well yeah, but you’ve already run away. Just, like, run away to somewhere nearby. Hey, you wanna stay at my place?“

Dee wrinkles her nose at the thought. “Doesn’t seem like _you_ wanna stay at your place. Were you telling the waitress there’s a monster in your house…?”

“He’s not a _monster._ ” Charlie runs a hand nervously through his hair. “I mean, there’s not…I just don’t wanna go home tonight. I’m out of glue so I won’t be able to sleep good, and…”

Dee decides to just breeze right past whatever the hell _that_ means.

“Why don’t you wanna go home? Are your parents assholes too?”

“Nah, my mom’s alright. But my Uncle Jack’s visiting and I…” Charlie looks at his hands, which are in the middle of pulverizing his fifth napkin. “I don’t like him is all.”

“That’s it? Cause you were, like, crying back there.”

“Nah, I don’t think so.” Charlie’s tone is light, but he doesn’t look up at Dee.

The pancakes arrive and Charlie just picks one up in both hands and bites into it. “Oh my god, that’s even better than I thought it would be,” he says around a mouthful of chocolate chips. He holds the pancake out to Dee, who smiles politely as she can manage and shakes her head. She wants to hit the ground running with her modeling career, so she needs to start watching her figure now.

Charlie’s too preoccupied with the pancakes to talk, so he just nods as Dee talks about her plans when she gets to New York. Modeling, Broadway, maybe find a voice coach so she can become a triple threat. At the mention of music he perks up.

“You sing?” he asks, spraying her with crumbs in his enthusiasm.

“Yeah. I mean, I _can_. I haven’t had any formal training or whatever, but yeah, I can sing.”

“You know, I write songs sometimes. I don’t have any normal training either but I got this plastic keyboard and I, uh, taught myself to play it kinda. If you ever wanted to…”

He keeps talking, but Dee stops paying attention. She’s starting to feel like she’s been charitable enough. She let this kid sit with her and pretend to be her date, bought him some pancakes, and now she’s letting him babble on about his sad, pointless life while she should be focusing on the future. 

She cuts him off. “That sounds really great and everything, but I’m getting on the next train to New York. We’ll probably never see each other again.”

“What if I came with you?” Charlie’s practically bouncing up and down in his seat now with excitement. “We could go out there as, like, a musical duo. If you just let me sneak home real quick and grab my keyboard-“

Now Dee is starting to feel angry. This kid has no idea how lucky he already has it, being able to appear in her story before crawling back into whatever hole he crawled out of. And he has the nerve to think she’d want to _team up_ with him? 

Dee’s getting ready to tell him to go to hell, but then she remembers she has to be responsible now. Her story is going to be in _Rolling Stone_ someday. She can’t have this little dirtgrub telling the reporter that she told an underprivileged, possibly retarded kid to get knotted. It wouldn’t look right.

So she tries to think of how Demi or Madonna would respond here. She takes a deep breath and grasps Charlie’s fidgeting hands in hers, looking deeply into his eyes.

“That’s a _really sweet_ idea, Charlie,” she says, trying to speak gently around her impatience. “But we both know that isn’t possible. Your place is here, and my place is out there.”

Charlie’s brow furrows again. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Best of luck, Charlie Kelly,” Dee answers. She holds her breath and leans forward, kisses him on the forehead. She catches a whiff of that chemical smell again as she leans back. What is that, paint? “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“Dee, are you okay? You sound kinda drunk.”

Christ. She’s going to have to do so much editing when she tells this story to _Rolling Stone_.

She gets up and puts a twenty on the table without waiting for the bill, just like in the movies. The effect is kind of ruined when she has to swing her heavy backpack back on, but she does her best to make it work. To be honest, she hasn’t been upright and out of her back brace this long in years, and her back is starting to get seriously sore. 

Charlie is still asking her why she’s acting so weird, but Dee ignores him. His part in her story is over. She’ll go to the train station and be alone with her thoughts. And by this time tomorrow all of this, Charlie Kelly and her aching spine and chocolate chip pancakes, will be part of the past and nothing else.

She spares one last glance over her shoulder as she leaves the Denny’s. Not because she wants to look at Charlie again, but because it’s important that he see her this way, walking out the door and away from Philadelphia forever. Beautiful, mysterious, and _gone_.

——

At some point while Dee was in the diner, the rain turned from a drizzle to a downpour. She can’t hear anything over the sound of water smacking into the pavement, and she can barely see across the parking lot. She grips the straps of her bag, puts her head down and starts to run. She can duck into a bathroom at the train station and change out of her wet clothes.

Her bag is heavy and her back hurts and the rain is in her eyes. She doesn’t hear the sound of a car door opening, doesn’t see the dark figure approaching her.

She’s drawn up short by the straps over her shoulders. Something has caught her backpack and yanked her off balance. The weight pulls her over, skinny legs tangling together, and some warm mass is there to catch her. Dee has barely a second to feel relief at not slamming into the pavement before an arm is snaking around her, pinning her arms to her sides. She screams and thrashes, but then something soft is being pressed against her face. She smells something like rotten flowers. Then everything goes grey, then black.

——

Dee’s eyes are still heavy when she comes to, and her first instinct is to roll over and sleep more. But there’s a fiery pain in her back and she realizes she can barely breathe, and those frightening sensations bring her around.

It’s dark, wherever she is, and close, and she realizes the smell that’s making it so hard to breathe is car exhaust. She’s in the trunk of a car.

She can’t breathe because her mouth’s been covered with something that feels like duct tape, and her back hurts because her hands are taped behind her back.

Animal panic seizes her, and she spends a few minutes pistoning her feet against the metal, trying to scream even though it just makes her throat hurt worse.

Her brain is racing. She’s been abducted by some pervert, just like Dad warned her about, and now instead of going to New York City she’s going to end up dead and mangled in a ditch somewhere. 

It’s not fair. _It’s not fair._ She’s been so patient, so gracious, and for it to end like _this_ for her?

The anger helps calm her down. It makes it easier to think.

Her legs are free. When her abductor opens the trunk, she’ll kick him in the balls as hard as she can, then take off running. Find a house or a road or whatever and get help.

She’s Deandra Reynolds, goddammit. Her story’s not supposed to go like this.

It’s only a few minutes later that she feels the vibrations of the car snap off. She takes a deep breath, the fumes still making her woozy, bends her knees and waits.

The trunk springs open and Dee kicks out with all her strength, but she must be more disoriented than she thought, because she doesn’t even come close to hitting the guy.

All she can see is his silhouette. There’s a blinding light behind him, making her eyes scream. She feels a hand grab her ankle and drag her out of the car.

“Told you you wouldn’t find a lot of nice guys out here, sweetie,” she hears. Dee feels her stomach flip over. It’s the well-dressed man. She knew something was wrong with him.

Dee lunges, trying to get past him, and he catches her by the shoulder and kicks her feet out from under her. Her knees hit gravel and she looks up at the man who’s going to kill her.

He’s standing over her, showing his nice teeth in a wolfish grin and holding the knife from her backpack. Dee sees it and starts sobbing, begging for mercy through the tape gagging her.

“Don’t cry, honey. I’m doing you a favor.” The man takes another step toward her and Dee cowers against the bumper of the car. “You’re gonna be famous.”

Dee screams, and then the lights shut off.

“Perfect!”

Another voice. Not the well-dressed man.

The sound of a car door slamming, and a familiar gravelly voice getting closer.

“Holy shit, Rudy, you’re a natural!”

Dee’s eyes are still adjusting to the sudden darkness, but there’s no mistaking the figure waddling toward her.

Her attacker turns to the approaching figure, tugging nervously at his collar. “You really think so? I wasn’t overselling it?”

“Are you kidding me? Look at her, she’s scared to death!”

Dee, still on her knees, stares as a short, round, balding man claps the well-dressed man on the back and slips a wad of bills into his palm. She feels a sharp, distant pain in her temples and there’s a high pitched buzzing in her ears. Is she old enough to be having a stroke?

The kidnapper pockets the money, then apologetically approaches Dee. He’s still holding the knife and she shrinks away, squeaking in fear, but all he does is cut the tape off her wrists.

Dee rips the tape off her mouth and climbs shakily to her feet. Her legs feel like rubber and her back is fucking killing her and her face stings where the tape tore off a layer of skin and _what the fuck is going on._

_“Dad?!”_

Frank Reynolds beams at his daughter and motions for her to come closer.

“Deandra, this is my old college pal Rudy. C’mon, don’t be stuck-up like your mother, come over here and say hello.”

Dee isn’t sure what she says for the next few moments. She can hear her angry bird-voice screeching profanity and demanding explanations. She can feel hot tears on her cheeks. Despite the racket she’s making her father never loses the eager, impatient look on his face, and butts in as soon as the need for air forces her to stop.

“Quit being hysterical, Deandra, it’s unattractive. Look, Dennis told me you were running away from home and I knew you wouldn’t listen to me, so I hired Rudy here to scare some sense int’ya.”

Rudy smiles and waves. Dee feels like she might throw up.

“Hey listen, I gotta get home. It was great to see you again.” Rudy leans down to give Frank a hug.

“Sure sure,” Frank answers, clapping Rudy on the back. “Hey, give my best to Margie and the kids.”

Rudy shuts the trunk of his car, hands Dee her backpack (she accepts it silently, her hands shaking) and drives away.

Frank sighs and rubs his hands together briskly. “Well, about time to get home, isn’t it? If you hadn’t taken so long in the coffee shop I could be in bed by now.”

The coffee shop. Dee thinks about her father, waiting in the parking lot, watching her inside the Denny’s and waiting for her to come out to be kidnapped.

“Was Charlie a part of this too?” Her voice is splintery.

Frank’s considerable forehead creases. “Who? That tweaker who was sitting with you? Nah, I don’t know who that was.” He elbows Dee playfully in the ribs. “Honestly, I was kinda hoping he planned to kidnap you himself. Coulda saved me half of what I paid Rudy. Maybe play it a little sexier next time, yeah?”

_“Dad!”_

“I’m just sayin’, how do you expect to become a famous model if you can’t get one tweaker interested in kidnapping you?”

Dee’s shoulders slump. “Let’s just go home,” she mutters.

Frank pats her on the shoulder. “Now you’re talkin’.”

Dee folds herself into the front seat. Inside, some part of her is still screaming and crying that this can’t be the story, it isn’t supposed to go like this. But most of her is just numb. Of course this is how it is. She was stupid to think it could be any other way.

She leans her head against the window as Frank starts the car. The glass is cool. That’s nice. The inside of the car is warm. That’s nice too. Does she really need anything else? Can she _hope_ for anything else?

Maybe tomorrow she’ll finally take that handful of pills. If she doesn’t manage to screw that up too.

“By the way,” Frank says, driving with one hand on the wheel, gesturing expansively with the other. “You showed good initiative back there with the knife. When you told Rudy to blow off. He said he really thought you were gonna stab him.”

Dee looks cautiously over at her father. He isn’t smiling.

“Yeah?” She sits up a little.

Frank nods. “We’ll go over technique tomorrow. I’ll show you which veins bleed out in less than thirty seconds so next time you don’t need your old man to save you.”

Dee rolls her eyes, doubting that any such veins exist. Even if they do, her dad’s full of shit about knowing what they are.

Still, her dad’s offering to teach her something, in his ridiculous way. That’s more than the rest of her family has done for her.

“Maybe you can demonstrate on Dennis,” she says with a bitter smirk. “I can’t believe he ratted me out.”

Frank waves a hand dismissively. “Eh, he’s just mad cuz he ain’t got the balls to try something like that. Between you and me, Deandra, your brother can be a real pansy most of the time. I’m glad at least one of my kids is showing some of that Reynolds toughness.”

Dee feels a real smile tugging at her lips. Tough. Tough’s a good thing.

“I know you really don’t know anything about knife-fighting, Dad.”

“Don’t tell your old man what he does and doesn’t know, Deandra! I’ll have you know this one time in ‘Nam…”

Dee leans against the window, letting her father’s bullshit Vietnam story wash over her unheard. The rain is coming down hard again, turning the streets of Philadelphia through her window into a neon smear. 

Her father thinks she’s tough, and Dennis is jealous of that. Dennis is a pansy, and Dee’s the tough one, and they both know it.

They’ll all know it, someday. 

Dee closes her eyes and thinks about how tough she’s going to be when she finally turns eighteen and can move out for real. No one in Philly or New York or goddamn Tokyo will be able to stand in her way.

She’s Deandra Reynolds, dammit, and things can only go up from here.


End file.
